Nothing changes— or does it?
by verybadidea
Summary: Season 2 finale Groundhog Day - Everything was the same. Was it a nightmare? Was he stuck in hell, destined to shoot Elliot over and over again?
1. Chapter 1

_**Notes**:_

_Once again, an old work I've decided to post. English is not my native language, sorry for any mistake._

_I really like the groundhog day trope, and I hope you too will enjoy it!_

* * *

_"He doesn't exist. I'm the only one that exists. It's time to finally take back control. Real control."_

The first word that came to his mind after pulling the trigger was 'no'. A simple word, just two letters, but a lot of meaning while Tyrell's universe was crumbling in front of his eyes. He regretted his action the moment the bullet reached Elliot's stomach. He hated himself the moment the man's desperate eyes reached his own. He wanted to take Elliot's spot when his body reached the ground. Instead, he lowered his gun and walked toward him.

'_Never show your emotions_' his dad once said. _'They'll use them against you'_. All his life, he had listened to him. He didn't even cried during his father's funeral, as if he was keeping a promise. Some days, it was harder than others. He knew that in those moments, he was losing control. Especially when it came to Elliot. But once again, it was time to listen to his father.

"You know," he said in the coldest voice he could manage, "when you gave me this, you said to stop anyone who gets in the way of our plan."

Elliot was shaking, blood oozing from his wound.

"I didn't know what you meant, but now it's very clear."

He could barely look at Tyrell, whose words were contradicting his heart shattering to pieces. He got closer to the man on the floor, while all he wanted to do was to erase this image from his brain.

"You did this to yourself, Elliot. You asked earlier what 'all the way' is. This is it."

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. And that's when Tyrell realized. Realized what he had done. Shooting the only person he could really care about, the only person he could think about during all these months locked down with a computer.

He dropped the gun on the floor. It landed in Elliot's blood in a disgusting splash. Why was there so much blood? It wasn't supposed to happen, they were supposed to finally finish their project together, to be one, to be the gods of a new world, together, not like this, just together—

_Oh god_. Elliot was going to die because of him.

Finally reacting, he quickly put his hands against Elliot's stomach to stop the blood from getting out. Was it even necessary? Elliot was unconscious, and there was already so much blood everywhere.

At the same moment, two men dressed in white passed the door, alerted by the shooting.

Tyrell could only imagine what scene they had in front of their eyes: an unmoving wounded hacker lying on the floor, next to a man in a suit, crying, and begging for help.

Was he crying, now?

—

He couldn't sleep. The sun was almost going to rise but he could only stare at Elliot in his bed, still asleep— no, he wasn't asleep, he had shot him— with multiples bags and fluids attached to his arm. He had stayed with him, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair from the moment the Dark Army allowed him to be there. He had called Angela as well. But he didn't feel any better. If any, worse. They said Elliot was going to be okay. They said he would eventually wake up. They didn't tell him if Elliot would be mad at him. They didn't tell him if Elliot would hate him. They didn't tell him if he would ask him to leave and would never see him ever again.

He wished this day had never happened.

* * *

Tyrell woke up. But was already awake. Standing, even, in the same place he had been before. Holding a gun in front of Elliot, tears in his eyes. Everything was identical.

"He doesn't exist," Elliot said to himself, the exact same way he did the day before, as if there was someone else in the room with them.

_What?_

"I'm the only one that exists."

_Elliot—_

"It's time to finally take back control. Real control."

Elliot turned away toward the computer.

Tyrell shot. He didn't know if it was out of fear, surprise, or both. He had promised himself he'd never do it again, but he did. The same eyes as the day before looked at him. The same blood was dripping on the floor. Everything was the same. Was it a nightmare? Was he stuck in hell, destined to relive this scene over and over again?

The same two men in white entered and Tyrell decided to act as he did before. What else could he do? The wrong was already done.

He spent the night with Elliot again. He didn't sleep. He looked at the window and saw the first lights of the sun appearing. Maybe he was just fucked up. This day was just a big déjà vu. The sun would continue to rise and he would take Elliot's hand again and say how sorry he was.

* * *

He woke up.

He decided it was definitely hell when he met Elliot's eyes with a gun barrel between them.

This time, he didn't think twice.

He put the firearm in his mouth before pulling the trigger.

* * *

He wasn't even surprised when he woke up. It was his punishment, he deserved this. The endless circle would be his only company in hell. Or maybe… was it a new beginning? A way to fix things?

"He doesn't exist." Elliot said, using the same voice as usual.

Tyrell lowered his gun. "I exist."

"I'm the only one that exists."

"Elliot, listen to me—"

"It's time to finally take back control. Real control."

He looked away from Tyrell.

"ELLIOT!"

The cracked voice he didn't know he could have made Elliot stop in his movement.

"Please."

He took careful steps toward him and raised his hands. "I'm not going to shot you. I'm sorry. Forget everything I said."

Elliot frowned. "It's doesn't matter. I know you're not real. You can't hurt me."

"Please, Elliot, trust me." He was close now. Close enough. "I'm real," he took his hand in his own, the one not holding the gun. "I really don't understand what goes through your mind right now, but I'm here. With you. _Please_."

Elliot looked at their hands. The foreign touch confused him. "You can't stop me."

"You don't have to do this. We worked together on this. You said you needed to finish this. Please, try to remember."

"This isn't right."

"Elliot…"

Without a warning, Elliot managed to grab the gun from his hand and pointed it at Tyrell's head.

"Get out of my head."


	2. Chapter 2

For once, Tyrell was actually happy to wake up.

"He doesn't exist," Elliot said.

Now, _this_ again.

Hell wanted to play? Well, it was time to get creative.

"Yeah, yeah," Tyrell answered him bitterly. "You're the only that exists. Taking back control, blah blah."

Elliot looked at him puzzled, left speechless. Not breaking eye contact, Tyrell slowly approached him, and put the gun in his hand.

"You have the gun. You're in control."

Elliot looked down at the gun with big, confused eyes, then back at Tyrell. "I don't und—"

"Understand, yeah, me neither. And I've been _really _trying."

"You're not real." Elliot's voice was shakier than before.

It didn't trouble Tyrell. "So I heard."

He knew this day by heart. Well, there was thing he hadn't tried before.

"Shoot me, then," he calmly added.

And Elliot did.

Right in the stomach, without an ounce of hesitation.

Tyrell didn't know he could be _that_ convincing.

However, he didn't die right away. But it was painful. So painful. Was it how Elliot felt it?

"T—Tyrell?"

He looked up. Up? Oh yes, he was on the floor now, holding his stomach. He saw Elliot with big eyes staring at him. He tried to smile, but the pain was too much, he only managed a weird smirk.

There was blood all over the place. It was strange to see his own blood this time. Elliot could see it too, because he started to show signs of panic.

"What I have done?"

He wanted to reassure him. Tell him everything will be ok tomorrow.

"You're real, you're real, you're real—"

All he could feel was warm hands against his face.

"Please don't die, don't leave me alone, please Tyrell, _please_."

It was actually peaceful.

* * *

Tyrell woke up.

He was standing.

Now, he was getting _really_ sick of this game.

He threw the gun away.

"Elliot!"

Tyrell ran toward him, surprising Elliot who backed up against the table behind him.

It took Tyrell less than a minute to enter the code in the computer next to them, cancelling the whole operation.

"There," he said angrily, pushing the last key.

Elliot was looking at his movements, out of words.

"It's over, Elliot."

The man still hadn't moved. He opened his mouth several times before managing to get the words out. "You… stopped it?"

"Yes."

"But…"

"Isn't it what you wanted?"

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand either, but Elliot—"

Tyrell placed himself in front of him and reached for his face, holding it between his hands.

"I'm sick of seeing this day with either me or you dying. I can't fucking take it anymore, okay?"

He didn't think he had ever seen Elliot so confused.

It didn't matter.

He hungrily pressed his lips against Elliot's, forcing a kiss into him. After a few seconds of shock, he could feel Elliot relaxing between his hands. Tyrell deepened the kiss, and to his greatest pleasure, Elliot returned it.

The more they were kissing, the more Tyrell could pay attention to what was happening. He was _kissing_ Elliot Alderson. He was feeling the heat of his body against his. He could sense Elliot's hands grab his waist to hold on to it. Why hadn't he done this before? It felt so good. It felt right. Maybe he wasn't in hell, after all.

"I love you," he whispered harshly between two kisses, out of breath, before going back to his task, not wanting to waste a single second.

He was so busy he didn't hear the Dark Army coming in and shooting them both.

* * *

This had to stop. He was going crazy. He probably already was.

He lowered the gun and ran directly to the computer without a word, not paying attention to Elliot.

"What—"

He cancelled everything. Again.

"I don't understand…"

"I'll explain later," Tyrell said. He put his hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Please get down."

Strangely enough, Elliot obeyed, but Tyrell answered nothing to his silent interrogations. He got down on his knees as well.

They waited side to side longer than Tyrell had expected. Elliot wasn't moving but Tyrell could sense the confusion and questions boiling in his mind. All he wanted was to grab his hand and hold it tight, anchor him in the reality (or whatever parallel universe they were in), tell him that everything would be okay, that everything would make sense.

That's when he heard the noises.

As soon as they entered the room, Tyrell got up and took the Dark Army men by surprise, shooting them one by one. He knew all about this situation, how many they were, how they would act. He was way ahead of them. The game of chess was already won.

It didn't take long before all the men were on the floor, bleeding. It felt weirdly therapeutic.

When he made sure they were all dead or unconscious, he vigorously grabbed Elliot's hand and led him outside. He followed without a word.

They ran.

And ran.

And kept running.

"Tyrell, what is happening?" Elliot asked after a moment. He was out of breath.

He stopped in a small street corner when he was sure they were alone, and away enough from everything.

He turned to Elliot and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Do you think I'm real, now?"

The man was still trying to catch his breath. He looked down, thinking.

Tyrell patiently waited, tightened his grip as to reassure Elliot, making sure he knew he was really here.

Then:

"A delusion couldn't have shot that many people," he finally said in a small voice.

The relief Tyrell felt was priceless. "You need to leave, Elliot. Far away." He released Elliot and started to take a step back. He couldn't look away from his face, though. From his lips. He remembered their kiss. That wasn't the right time.

"Wait—"

"We stopped their whole machination," Tyrell continued. "And they won't be happy about it. I'm just trying to protect you, Elliot. I know it's confusing, but I also know what they will do. Please, listen to me."

"Tyrell…"

"Will you listen to me?"

Elliot looked up to meet Tyrell's eyes. They weren't teary like he was used to see them. They were… something else.

"Are you—", Elliot murmured. "Are you coming with me?"

Tyrell's heart missed a beat. He smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I don't want to lose you again."

—

That night, they found a room in a shady motel away from the city. The bathroom was dirty, the walls had cracks and the carpet had some dubious spots. But that was the best they could find in such a short notice, and at least the Dark Army wouldn't know they're here.

They silently took in their surroundings, both too exhausted to even try to understand the situation. Finally, they were staring at the bed.

The only bed.

"I'll…" Elliot finally started, after what seemed like an eternity. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Looking away from the bed, Tyrell turned to him. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"Have you seen the floor? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Elliot bit his lower lip, unsure.

"And you're definitely not my worst enemy," Tyrell continued, gently.

That brought a small smile to Elliot's face, and that was the most beautiful thing Tyrell had ever seen.

He made his way toward the bed, and Elliot followed him. They didn't a share a word as they awkwardly lied next to each other, still fully clothed, a rough sheet above them.

Time passed, and Tyrell was still awake, and he was sure Elliot was as well. The air was heavy, and he didn't know what to say to lighten the mood and make Elliot feel better. A million of scenarios went through his mind, but none felt right.

Elliot finally broke the silence.

"Will you explain what happened today?"

Tyrell kept looking at the ceiling. "If there's a tomorrow, I will."

Even without seeing him, he could feel Elliot frowning.

"There's always a tomorrow."

"Not for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I've had bad experiences with tomorrows." He turned to Elliot and was surprised to find him already staring at him. "Right now, I'm just glad you're here with me. Alive. That's all I care about."

Elliot's face went softer. "That's not much."

"That's enough for me." He gently squeezed Elliot's hand before letting him go and looked back at the ceiling. He didn't want to push him. He just wanted to appreciate his presence next to him as long as he could before going back to his own hell. What would he do for tomorrow's scenario?

He didn't take him long to answer. He would do the same as today: saving Elliot and going to sleep next to him. That's all he needed.

The sound of sheets rustling ended Tyrell's thoughts. He didn't move an inch while without a word, a warm body got slowly closer, interlocking with his own as if they were perfectly fitting together.

Tyrell finally relaxed as Elliot was in his arms, and held him tight. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Elliot was now resting his head in the crock of his neck, and the moment couldn't have been more perfect.

"I can do better than enough," Elliot murmured. Then, suddenly self aware of the situation, he tensed. "Unless you don't want—"

"Don't even think about moving."

Elliot's body relaxed at the words, and he got closer to him, if possible. He then slowly raised his head and laid a soft kiss on Tyrell's lips, who had stopped breathing. It was chaste but _oh_, so perfect.

Elliot licked his lips before returning to rest his head on his chest. "Good night, Tyrell."

It took him all his strength to manage an answer. "Good night, Elliot."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Trust me on this."

He trusted him with all his heart.

A few minutes later, Elliot fell asleep and his regular breathing pattern relaxed Tyrell even more. After what had seemed like days and days of sleepless nights, he finally gave way to sleep as well.

—

When he woke up, Tyrell was still holding Elliot in his arms, in a shitty motel, on a shitty bed.

The day was finally new.

And that was all that mattered.


End file.
